As many of you know from previous Blog posts, I re-written some of my Aunt Connies' tales of when she was growing up in and around Warren and Lake Waramaug. This story tells of when she took her fathers Horse to get Shod at the Blacksmith in New Preston when she was about ten years old........
Many years ago, seventy- seven, to be exact. I was about ten years old and a real tom-boy. One day I was to ride the carriage horse from Church Road in Woodville to the Blacksmith in New Preston, so using the corner of the horse trough, I clambered onto the back of the horse, and sat on a folded burlap bag, which was put there for a saddle. I was a happy kid! I was alone, and had the horse for my partner. I whistled and sang along the way, taking a nice leisurely ride. I wore no helmet, not even a cap. No Jodhpurs, just gym bloomers like the high school girls had to wear in athletics. Three-and-a- half miles later I arrived at the Village Blacksmiths. He reminded me so much of Longfellow's "the Village Blacksmith." 'Under a spreading chestnut tree the village smithy stands, the smith, a mighty man is he, with large and sinewy hands, and the muscles of his brawny arms are as strong as iron bands.' And this particular blacksmith was built just about the same way. I could see he was very busy shoeing a big work horse, so I just stayed out of his way and watched, as he took the large iron tongs and pulled a large semi-circular object out of the fire, placed it on a huge stump and using a sledge hammer, pound it into a shape that would fit the horse's hoof. Then I heard it sizzle as it was placed on the horses hoof and held in place while he drove nails into the hoof. I felt very sorry for the horse; it must have hurt. But later I found out that the outside of the hoof was not feeling. The horse was taken outside and tied to an iron ring on the building, until the owner came back for it, which was usually very soon. Then the blacksmith looked at me and asked me what I wanted. Believe me he was so big and strong, his arms seemed all muscle, perspiration running down his face and arms. I quietly led my horse inside [ hard to believe I was shy in those days, but I was]. I spook softly and said " Pa said to put shoes on all four feet." He tied the horse to another iron ring fastened to the wall, and took one leg and placed it on a sort of a pedestal that fit right under the hoof. Then he cut away the nails, and went to the fire and pumped the bellows to get the fire burning hot. I stood there barefoot and watched the whole proceedings with curiosity. When all was done, he told me it was a $1.00, and I answered "Pa said he would pay you the next time he came to the village." Evidently our credit was good and under no circumstances would a child be allowed to handle so much money because, according to adults, they would surely lose it. The blacksmith picked me up as though I was no heavier than a cat, and placed me on Major's back and so I rode home. What a wonderful day to be entrusted to take a horse to get shod. I really thought I was a Queen.
Caroline [Strong] Verbouwens
...She Added....
I wrote this because of the Norway Spruce being cut down in New Preston, they were there when I went that day, and I saw them every day when the school bus passed. I felt like I was losing an ancestor, but I must be grateful that no more were cut.
By the way, the Blacksmith's name was Bill Jessum, and he was the granddad of Ron Cheney and several other Cheney's in town. the blacksmith's shop is the red building on the North side of Rt. 202, directly across from the trees. That building holds years of history, and I hope it will be preserved for many more years. CV
I hope you all enjoyed this trip down memory lane...I hope to continue with not only her stories but some of mine thrown in for good measure.......N
